Today there is snow on the courtyard.
Today there is Luke.
9
Despite falling flakes obstructing my vision, I see Jamie’s silhouette in the front window as I trudge around the corner to her street.
“Why aren’t you wearing that cute coat you bought when we went thrifting?” she asks, even before the front door to her 1970s house is all the way open. “And why are you dressed like you’re exploring the Arctic?”
“Why were you watching for me?” I answer her questions with a question as I kick snow off my boots and push past her into the entryway. I start to unravel.
“It’s dark,” she shrugs. Jamie will never admit it, but toward me, at least, she’s very protective.
“Why did you walk here, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I say, tossing wet hair out of my face. “Seemed like a good idea.”
I finish unwrapping and then neatly stack my winter wear on the entryway bench. But not without grabbing my cell phone in case Luke calls tonight.
Just as we’re ready to head to Jamie’s room, her mother pops her head around the corner and beams at me. She’s wearing a retro print apron over her power suit.
“Hi, London!” she calls.
“Hi, Susan,” I say with a friendly wave. Jamie rolls her eyes, grabs my hand, and pulls me in the direction of the stairs.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Susan asks as we pass.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I call as I’m dragged down to Jamie’s lair in the finished basement.
Halfway down the stairs, my mom calls to make sure I made it safely. I quickly tell her I’m fine and hang up.
Thirty minutes later, I’m on Jamie’s bed, trying not to get bloodred nail polish on her comforter.
“Why do you have that weird look on your face?” Jamie asks. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m just happy.”
“About the weirdo?” Jamie teases.
“He’s not weird; he’s hot,” I say back.
Jamie shrugs.
“So, what’s the deal? Do you remember having babies with him or something?”
I set down my polish and look at my best friend intently.
“No,” I say in a whisper. Jamie scoots closer to me. “I can’t remember him at all.”
“Then what’s the point?” she asks, rolling her eyes and looking disappointed. She refocuses on her nails. “Why bother?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” I say. “If you think about it, it’s not that he isn’t in my future.”
That gets her attention. She looks up. “Huh?”
“Well, I reread my notes from this week. Monday, I didn’t remember Luke from Tuesday. But then on Tuesday, I talked to him and stuff. See?”
“Uh… no.”